The Middle Man The Life of a WWE RentACop
by 101mizzpoet101
Summary: After going to a disappointing RAW house show last night and arguing with a fake cop who treated me like sh*t, this is the outcome. You don’t have to review, just read it. One Shot.


_(__**A/n: MUST READ!**__ Okay, last night I went to a Raw house show. I left disappointedly, I only wanted one thing. Randy's autograph. Did I get it? NO! But that's not what has me heated. I am very angry and appalled at the way I was treated last night by the rent a cop traffic security whatever the fuck that dude was. I'll tell you the tale very quickly. I was walking over to the parking lot edge where the ramp was located that the superstars pull out of. As I walk over I hear 'What am I supposed to tell his wife?!' That's what the rent-a-cop was YELLING at a little hood rat twelve-year old girl. And I said 'Who's wife?' Because I automatically thought of Randy and Spam. So the man answers me and he says 'John Cena's wife' Now you all know how I get about these things. No, I don't fantasize in my head that I am going to marry John Cena; I was upset because the guy was lying to the little girl to be a douche. So being the woman I am, I got an attitude and said "John Cena is not married" and the man said "Yes he is, I've been knowing him for ten years with the WWE" That made my blood boil, FIRST OF ALL John hasn't been in the WWE for ten years! He's been with the WWE for six! And OVW will not count because the security guard worked with the WWE ten years, OVW and the WWE (although they are officially severed) were always separate entities! They had some interaction when talent would be passed up but that's it! No way is that possible! Second of all, don't try to tell me about John Cena. I know everything about the man, I know John's blood type, his social security number, I know his fucking sperm count! DON'T TRY TO LIE TO ME ABOUT JOHN CENA! I almost cursed the guy out, but I didn't say everything that I just told all of you because that would sound really creepy and stalker status. (Which I am not! This information just happens to slide my way from time to time hehe). Anyways, I rolled my eyes and said 'John Cena said on television that he is not married, so that was a lie?" Okay I said this to the guy because that raises the stakes. It's one thing to tell a lie, it's another thing to call John Cena a liar. I mean c'mon it's super Cena, the WWE's golden boy angel, he doesn't lie. The guy answered simply "Yes that is a lie, John is married." And I shrugged and said "Oh well." So honestly, I think that was a lie, I mean Randy brings spam everywhere, if John was married he would too. Randy's entire fan base is women it's like two percent males. So if the WWE wanted to protect any one's image it would be Randy's. And Randy parades spam around like she's Mariah fucking Carey, along with forgetting to take off his wedding ring (EVERYTIME HE IS ON RAW!) So I don't think John was lying when he said on television that he isn't married. Anyways I argued with the guy all night and I told him he was a mean asshole. I mean seriously you guys, every other security guard there loved me, everyone loves me! But he didn't! Something is wrong with him, I'm pretty charming! Fucking shit head. Anyways he said 'You people just don't know boundaries with the guys, I mean all you want is an autograph? C'mon.' So that was him insinuating that I am a ring rat. I AM NOT A RING RAT! I wanted a fucking autograph! Is that too much to fucking ask? I'll be honest, on a normal day I am scantily clad, but I made it a point to look very classy (not trashy) at the event. My tits weren't out, and neither was my ass. I was covered up! (Still hot though) He had no right to say that to me. In no way, shape, or form did I give off a ring rat vibe! Anyways I ended up not getting anything, well wait, I'm not sure yet. One of the rent-a-cops had the hots for me (well they all were like that but he was more adamant than the rest) And I talked him into taking my May edition of WWE mag. And getting Randy to sign it and give it to me the next time the WWE will be in the area later this month. And no, I didn't suck him off for it or anything nasty like that, in case you were wondering what I had to do. All I had to do was smile and bat my eyelashes. Okay enough of the author's note. But seriously, the only reason it was so long is that I had to explain what happened for you to understand this one shot. BTW, It's told from the rent-a-cops POV. This is me getting inside his head You don't have to review this one, it's just for my own fulfillment)._

Disclaimer: Wait, I don't need one right? Alright I don't own anyone in the WWE. And anything else im supposed to say here to not get sued.

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Cock blocker. That is exactly what I am… And I am damn proud of it. Being a WWE traffic security guard is not at all easy. Actually wait no, it is, I mean all I do is direct traffic in the parking lots at the venues. Before you say it, I am **not** a rent-a-cop; I am a well-trained WWE traffic security guard for World Wrestling Entertainment. Oh yeah back to the whole 'my job is hard' bit. Okay so maybe I was exaggerating; my job is not physically hard; it is emotionally hard. Do you know what it's like? Do you know what it is like to see gorgeous girls waiting for autographs? And not from you?! No all they want are the superstars, most of which are secretly gay, and the rest are roided up tan-orexics. Excuse me for being human, I mean, how can these hot hoes just push past me to get to them? What the hell am I? Chopped liver? Alright I apologize I'm beginning to rant. Let's see where did I veer off course?...Oh yes, at the beginning! Cock blocker. Yep that's me! I mean if I'm not getting any of that good pussy, then those superstars won't either. I like a little 'you scratch my back, I scratch yours' kinda thing, if yah know what I mean eh? Well ninety six percent of the time, that doesn't happen, which means that if I'm not getting laid, then no one is getting laid. I am the middleman. I am the bitter man. I am the mean man.

Along with the major cock blocking, I take pleasure in crushing little teenybopper's dreams. John Cena; gosh the squeals and screeches girls let out for him really pierce your ears. Luckily, the WWE has good benefits and I can go to the doctor's and get a hearing aid. I am getting up there in age yah know? Okay back to the dream crushing, there was actually a very interesting incident last night at a house show. This tiny tot, she had to be about twelve years old comes running up. "Where's John Cena he's my _hussssband_." I swear these children are so illiterate. Too bad the little girl didn't know John was in Louisiana filming his movie. Anyway, she was complaining that he wasn't there and that she's in love with him and she persisted to profess her unyielding devotion to a man that doesn't even know she exists. Well I couldn't resist the temptation, 'What am I supposed to tell his wife?' The uproar in the crowd was quite amusing. It entertained me for a while. Everyone told me I was lying, in fact I was. But how do they know that? I am an insider. I know these things wink wink. It felt good, it felt really good crushing that little ring rat in training's hopes and dreams just by a few simple words that I let roll off my lying tongue.

Okay so maybe that wasn't the nicest thing to do, and I did make four girls cry in the process but I couldn't help myself. Nobody wants me, I suffer from pain and loneliness, and if I suffer then everyone suffers. Night after night, I get looked past and trampled over, and for what? For the talent? I am just as good as they are! Unfortunately, for me, no one seems to notice, which is why I forbid them to sign autographs. Yep that's right. I encourage the superstars to _**not stop**_ their rental cars to sign autographs when they come out of the lot to leave, I encourage them to keep their windows up and keep on rollin'. Kind of like when you go to the wild safari at the zoo? Yah know how you have to keep your body inside the car completely, with your windows closed and your doors locked? Yeah that's pretty much what it's like. The excuse I use for keeping them from the fans is "It's a safety precaution." Works every time, works like charm. Remember, I'm just doing my job right? wink wink

I wish I could be nicer, but I can't, something just won't let me. I mean I try to be more patient and tolerate the fans a little better but I can't. The anger just rises up in me and thus begins the cock blocking. It's the only consolation I have. Oh, another thing that I like doing is making women and girls alike question their own dignity and integrity. Well, they don't do it on their own; I like to play mind games with them. All I have to do is make sure that they know that I know that they are a ring rat. Even if they aren't, I make them think that I think they are. Do you understand what I am saying? Even a little? Okay well just go with me here for a second and then maybe you can catch up later yeah? Okay well, I treat all attractive women and girls even, like they are potential ring rats. I give them the _'look'_. The look that says a million and one things in just a millisecond. 'I know why you want to get backstage. You are nothing but a cheap slut. You wish you were riding away with him to that hotel don't you? You want more than an autograph sweetie. You didn't dress sexy for nothing.' The best thing after _I give the 'look'_ is the _look that they get on their face_! The one that makes them feel ashamed and embarrassed, 'Does your daddy know you're here right now?' It's fucked up right? But for the hour that I am out there directing traffic, I have to entertain myself some how. And it's so easy to do it. Do you want to know why? It's simply because… I am the middleman, I am the bitter man, I am the mean man.

**END**

_**With that said, 101mizzpoet101 Is Officially on a writing Hiatus.**_


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